Trapped in a Secret Marriage with a Dangerous Billionaire - Chapter 239

Chapter 239: Treated Like A Rogue

The Underground Dungeon.

A sharp crack echoed through the damp, stifling air.

Stella’s scream pierced the silence as the leather belt lashed against her bare back once more, searing her skin with fresh agony. She bit down on her swollen lip, her body convulsing from the relentless blows.

Her wrists, bound high above her head, throbbed from the pressure of the iron cuffs digging into her flesh.

The beating continued—merciless, methodical—until her captor finally stepped back, breathing heavily.

A long, suffocating silence followed. Then, with a loud clank, the chains holding her up were loosened.

Stella collapsed onto the cold, grimy floor, her body crumpling like a broken doll. Every nerve in her body screamed, but she barely had the strength to whimper. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her tattered dress clinging to her bruised and sweat-soaked skin.

She didn’t move. She couldn’t.

Then a sudden clang startled her.

A dented stainless bowl clattered onto the floor a few feet away from her. The sickly scent of cold, overcooked rice wafted into the air.

“Eat.” The gruff voice of one of her captors cut through the silence, void of sympathy.

With the little strength she had left, Stella dragged herself forward, her trembling fingers reaching for the bowl. The sight of the food—a pathetic portion of plain white rice drowned in a tasteless white sauce with scattered chunks of overcooked carrots and cauliflower—would have repulsed her once.

But hunger was a cruel master.

Without hesitation, she scooped up the mushy food with her filthy hands, stuffing it into her mouth, chewing frantically. It tasted bland, almost sour, but she didn’t care. It was food. It kept her alive.

She was no longer a woman of wealth or status. She was an animal in their eyes—a rogue dog thrown scraps to survive.

And she accepted it.

She ate with desperation, swallowing large mouthfuls before the chance to do so was taken away.

Minutes later, as the last bite slid down her throat, a sudden heat burned through her skull.

Stella groaned, clutching her forehead as an unbearable headache pulsed behind her eyes. Her entire body tensed, her teeth gritted in pain.

“I need… I need to use the restroom,” she croaked, her voice hoarse.

A pair of heavy boots stopped in front of her. Without a word, a rough hand yanked her up by the arm. Her legs wobbled beneath her, barely able to support her weight, but she forced herself to move as she was dragged out of the dungeon.

The “restroom” was nothing more than a filthy, rust-stained hole in the ground inside a cramped, dimly lit space. The stench alone made her stomach churn, but Stella had long since learned not to complain.

The guard stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her every move.

When she stepped out, weak and unsteady, he wasted no time in grabbing her again, leading her back to her prison like a piece of livestock.

Once inside, she sank onto the cold floor, her breathing shallow, her entire body screaming in exhaustion.

A shadow loomed over her.

She looked up, her swollen eye barely able to make out the rough-looking man standing before her.

He held out two white pills and a battered stainless cup filled with lukewarm water.

Stella hesitated.

The man scoffed. “Take it or don’t. Makes no difference to me.”

Her gaze flickered to the pills. Painkillers. A flicker of relief crossed her face.

She didn’t know why they cared enough to ease her pain, but it meant something—they weren’t planning to kill her. Not yet.

With shaking hands, she grabbed the pills, tossing them into her mouth before gulping down the stale water.

Two minutes. That was all the relief she got.

Before she could even let her body rest, the chains were pulled up again, locking her wrists back into their cruel embrace.

A fresh wave of despair washed over her.

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision as she whimpered softly. She didn’t dare cry louder. She knew the price of defiance.

So, she hung there once again, weak, broken, humiliated.

Waiting.

For the next round of punishment to begin. With each passing day, she felt less of a human. And at this point, she would rather serve the prison sentence she deserved than be subjected to this humiliation that traumatized her and almost left her mentally deranged.

‘I will never forget this season in my life. Never!’ Stella promised with agonizing pain in her heart.

—

The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound filling the otherwise silent office.

Major Walker sat behind his expansive wooden desk, his sharp eyes scanning a classified report in front of him. The dim lighting in the room cast long shadows, giving the space an ominous feel.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted his concentration.

“Enter.” His voice was steady, controlled.

The door swung open, and a soldier stepped inside, his posture rigid with discipline. He snapped a sharp salute, his expression unreadable as he stood at attention in front of the desk.

“Sir,” the soldier reported crisply, “we’ve received intel. Xander Scott has uncovered evidence against us.”

The Major’s fingers, which had been idly tapping against the desk, came to a halt.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his fingers over his abdomen.

“As expected of him,” he murmured, more to himself than to the soldier. His sharp gaze darkened slightly. “Though, I must say… it took him longer than I anticipated.”

Despite his outward composure, a flicker of unease ran through his mind. Xander had the evidence. That wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was the silence that followed.

Why wasn’t he making a move yet?

The soldier shifted slightly. “Sir, should we proceed with countermeasures? Do you have any further instructions?”

Major Walker exhaled slowly before leaning forward, resting his muscular arms on the desk. His eyes locked onto the soldier’s, his expression unreadable.

“If Xander Scott attempts to force his way in… put a bullet through his leg.” His tone was calm, almost casual, but the weight behind the words was anything but.

The soldier blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the directness of the order. But he quickly recovered, giving a sharp nod. “Understood, Sir.”

“Good.” The Major dismissed him with a flick of his fingers.

The soldier saluted once more before turning on his heels and marching out, closing the door with a firm click.

As soon as the soldier was gone, Major Walker leaned back in his chair once again. His fingers resumed their rhythmic drumming against the polished wood of his desk.

Xander had the proof. He knew that much. But he wasn’t acting—yet.

What was he waiting for?

A smirk ghosted over the Major’s lips, his fingers tapping against the desk once more.

“Let’s see what your next move is, Lex.”